Page 144 of One for the Road
“Yes.” I nodded, kept nodding.
He was taking me from behind. I let my head sink backagainst his chest, and he turned my face his way. “Still want those eyes, honey, always.”
Neither of us broke our stare as he sank in slowly, even when a fractured gasp broke my lips.It was so much deeper this way.
“Oh god, Alistair.”
His hand came around, finding my breast and my thundering heart beneath. He started to move, digging my knees into the sand. With the way he was groaning, I was certain he’d finish before me.
“I’m addicted to the way you say my name,” he said, and I moaned it again. “You are so fucking dangerous. And impatient.”
“We need to be quick.”
“And I told you, you deserve slow.”
Why did that feel like a challenge?
“Alistair.” My head fell back on his shoulder. “You should know I dreamed of you, before we were even friends. I’d wake up hot and wet—”
“Jesus, Isla. You’re a fucking menace.”
His chest was slick against my back, length pulsing inside me, and I knew he was close – so I said, “I think we should have sex against your bedroom wall next, just the way I imagined—”
He exploded. I had no time to be smug because a quick flick of his thumb and I came not even a second later.
And like he was punishing me, he didn’t even give me a second to recover before pushing me flat on my back, removing my underwear completely and pushing back inside. The burn was exquisite. “I thought we were going home,” I gasped, already coming again.
“Honey, I’m already home.”
Epilogue
Eight months later
Isla
“I really don’t think we should tell your family that it’s my birthday,” I said from the driver’s seat.
The stupid self-heating driver’s seat of Alistair’s Land Rover.
My arse was nice and toasty. I hated it.
Daisy had finally bit the dust last month. That chilly March evening, I’d finished my day at Brown’s, walked down to the car park, and she’d just been . . . dead. Not even a sputter goodbye.
I’d still been crying when Alistair arrived to pick me up twenty minutes later. It had felt like losing Granny Pat all over again.
“And why’s that again?” Clutching a blueberry pie in the passenger seat, Alistair raised his eyebrows over the rims of his glasses. He was wearing his thick navy jumper – my favourite – that brought out the blue in his eyes.
“Because it’s Juniper and Callum’s pre-wedding celebration, I don’t want to make it all about me.” They werehaving a small get-together at the distillery tasting room before theofficialbig day tomorrow.
“Heaven forbid something should be about you.” He smirked. “It’s called a weddingdayfor a reason.”
“Today was perfect, let them have their night.” After convincing me the day before, under sexual duress, to close Brown’s for the day – on a Saturday no less – he had made me breakfast in bed with Teddy, and later, we’d taken a trip to Eilean Donan Castle. Spring had well and truly arrived, and the grand gardens were starting to bloom.
I don’t think I’d had a better birthday since before Granny Pat died.
“I wantmybirthday to be all about me,” Teddy piped up from the back. Hers was still two weeks away. She was excited; she’d stuck a little countdown to her birthday party on the fridge.
“As it should be, kid.” He winked at her in the rearview mirror, and my heart soared. Eight months in and I knew that feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon.
